


hold me, break me

by kingsnow (bravegentlestrong)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Bondage, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Sansa, F/M, Face-Sitting, Flogging, Half-Sibling Incest, Spanking, alternate season 6/7, basically imagine jon gave sansa a spanking when she "undermined" him in season 7 episode 1, jonsakinkweek, that's the starting premise of this verse, where they were boning the whole time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravegentlestrong/pseuds/kingsnow
Summary: “This is the only time I feel safe,”she’d said last night, when he’d taken her from behind like they were animals.But Jon didn’t feel safe when he was with her. She set his teeth on edge. It was like his blood had caught fire. He couldn’t trust himself anymore. He was supposed to protect her. Jon did his best to defeat her monsters, but he couldn’t stop himself from defiling her. Sansa wasn’t scared of the big bad wolf, but she should be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angel_of_the_morning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_of_the_morning/gifts).



> Dark Jon is so vague and based on my friend's experience, people get upset if you tag things as "Dark Jon Snow" and it isn't noncon/dubcon. Just to warn readers, this fic is fully consensual. 
> 
> Happy kink week ~

Sansa was naked in his room again. Jon wasn’t exactly sure how he let it start, his memory wasn’t the greatest anymore, and he’d sworn to end it half a hundred times, but he was only a man and his thoughts darken as soon as he sees his sister’s naked body in the flickering candlelight. Her flesh was marred by scars, but she was still fucking perfect. His sword hand itched to reach out and touch her, but he knew better than that. Sweet caresses weren’t what brought Sansa Stark to his bed. 

 

_ “You’re the only one I trust,”  _ she’d said the first time she let her shift fall to the floor. 

 

That was her first mistake. She never should have trusted him. He was a broken man. He ought to have stopped her. He was supposed to protect his little sister. He was more like the man who left all those scars than he liked to admit. He liked to hurt her too. He hated himself afterwards, and he hated her for coming back for more each night. He hated her for begging for it, for baiting him in public and teasing him under the table.

 

“What are you doing here?” Jon asked, as though she hadn’t come to his bed nearly every night for weeks. 

 

“Waiting for you,” Sansa said, smiling up at him from his bed where she was sprawled out on top of his furs.

 

“ _ This is the only time I feel safe,”  _ she’d said last night, when he’d taken her from behind like they were animals. 

 

But Jon didn’t feel safe when he was with her. She set his teeth on edge. It was like his blood had caught fire. He couldn’t trust himself anymore. He was supposed to protect her. Jon did his best to defeat her monsters, but he couldn’t stop himself from defiling her. Sansa wasn’t scared of the big bad wolf, but she should be. 

 

“Open your legs.”

 

Sansa played at being a good girl and did as she was told. But good girls don’t sneak into their brother’s bedroom after dark and wait naked in his bed. Good girls don’t touch themselves in front of their brother either, but Sansa’s hand slipped between her legs and she commenced to do just that. Over the past few weeks, Jon’s found that Sansa liked to be watched. She wanted to be admired, and Jon can’t help but do just that whenever he’s around her. 

 

“Is this what you wanted?” Sansa asked, pushing her long fingers inside herself, “to watch?”

 

“It’s a start.”

 

“You don’t want to touch me?” 

 

He wanted to pull her down onto him and watch her ride his cock. He wanted to watch her breasts shake and feel her cunt tighten around him as she came. He wanted to feel her come against his tongue, her thighs tightening around his ears. 

 

“You weren’t thinking about it all day?” Sansa asked when he doesn’t reply. “Thinking about how you’d have me at your mercy? Thinking about what you’d do to me?”

 

He had been, and it was insufferable. Sansa was beautiful. Milky skin and soft red hair, big blue eyes and pillowy lips.  _ She’s mine _ , he thought when he sat beside her at the head of the table.  _ All mine _ , he thinks now, as he watches her fuck herself with eager hands. 

 

“Aye,” he says, slipping his cloak from his shoulders. “I thought of little else.”

 

A satisfied grin took over Sansa’s face. “What did you think of?”

 

“How one of these days I’m going to tie you to this bed,” Jon says, mulling over the thought. He had already claimed Sansa nearly every way a woman could be claimed, but the thought of binding her to his bed with her legs spread and doing anything he wanted to her stirred desire in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t think he could ever grow tired of her cunt. “Maybe then you won’t distract me so much in meetings.”

 

Sansa’s eyes darken. “The thought of me helpless in your bed wouldn’t be distracting? Naked and desperate for you… starving for your touch… that wouldn’t be a distraction?”

 

“I’d be very eager to get back here. But that might be good motivation. And you couldn’t undermine me.”

 

“Me, tied up, wet and waiting for you?” Sansa asked, biting down on her lip and moaning. 

 

Finally Jon sat down on the bed next to his sister and ran one of his cold hands down her thigh. Sansa shivered under his touch. She continued to fuck herself with her fingers but Jon grabbed her wrist with his other hand. Jon brought her hand up to his mouth and sucked on her fingers. She sighed as he licked them clean. He was a slave to his lust for her and Sansa liked to take advantage of that. This was what she came here for. She played with him like he was one of her dolls. 

 

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do this anymore,” Jon said when he’d finished with her fingers, his hand still caressing her thigh. When she was naked he couldn’t bring himself from looking away. He’d lost count of how many times he’d seen her draped over his furs, but he was still mesmerized. 

 

_ “I can trust you. I haven’t been able to trust anyone since father died… _ ” 

 

“You touched me first,” Sansa said, shrugging her shoulders, “I was taking care of myself.”

 

“In my bed.”

 

“It’s not my fault you enjoy the show…”

 

Jon sighed, clutching her thigh and inching his hand up. His thumb brushed Sansa’s clit. “This was our father’s bedroom. What would he think if he saw you like this?” 

 

Sansa pushed herself into Jon’s hand and closed her eyes. “He’d send you to the wall for sure,” she said, then grinned. “I guess it’s too late for that.”

 

Jon ran a finger down the length of her. He didn’t need to tie her up, she was already wet and willing. “And what would he do to you?”

 

“Mhmmm… he’d punish me, wouldn’t he?”

 

Jon nodded. “Get in my lap,” Jon instructed her. 

 

Sansa sucked in a breath. She did as she was told, standing up and laying across his knees. She was used to being disciplined by now. She was a very bad girl but she never shied away from his hands when it came time to pay for her sins. 

 

Sansa’s bare ass was always tempting, and administering her punishment was always a pleasure for him. His cock hardened underneath her weight. Sansa opened her legs and Jon couldn’t resist the urge to push two fingers into her cunt with the hand that steadied her. His other hand caressed her ass before bringing it down hard. The sound of Sansa’s gasp and the sight of her ass and cunt shaking around his fingers was supremely satisfying. 

 

“Again,” Sansa begged.

 

Jon curled his fingers inside her. He didn’t take orders from her. He was the King, after all. He rubbed his fingers against her soft walls and reached his thumb up to rub against her clit again. She sighed, but resisted trying to give him orders. She had once dared doing that in public and paid the price. But try as he might, Jon could not tame his little sister. She enjoyed her spankings far too much, and delighted in baiting him in public. She would contradict him in the Great Hall knowing full well what awaited her in his bedroom. 

 

Jon ran a fingertip against Sansa’s spine as he fingerfucked her. She didn’t expect it when he brought his hand down the next time, and then again in rapid succession. She tightened her cunt around his fingers and Jon hit her again, this time harder. He could hear her curse his name under her breath, and his hand came down again. Her ass was already red, but he hit her three more times for good measure.

 

“Are you going to behave now?” Jon asked her, pulling his fingers out of her cunt and caressing her ass to soothe the pain. 

 

“ _ Thank you,”  _ she’d said weeks ago, when it hurt to sit down after a spanking. “ _ For what?”  _ he’d asked, feeling guilty about how much he enjoyed to hurt her.  _ “For making me yours.” _

 

“Yes,” she said, standing up.

 

“Come here,” he said, and Sansa straddled one of his legs. One of his hands came around her back to support her there and he raised the other to his lips. “Suck,” he commanded.”

 

Sansa’s tongue was gentle but thorough as she lapped up the taste of herself. Sansa began to rub herself against him. His breeches would be covered in her scent, but half the castle already suspected that their king was fucking his little sister, so he supposed it didn’t matter. Jon refused to apologize to any of his subjects for the pleasure the two of them had found with each other. They had been through so much, they deserved what little happiness could be found in such dark times. 

 

Jon pulled his fingers from Sansa’s warm mouth and grabbed both of her hips in his hands. He helped her along, rubbing her cunt against his leg. She kissed him long and slow, her tongue rubbing against his as she came. 

 

Very little satisfied Jon as much as the whimpering sound Sansa made at the back of her throat when she came. His arousal was almost painful and his kisses were deep and urgent. He wanted to possess her, and he clawed at her back as he pulled her closer. Sansa pulled away and before he could say anything, dropped to her knees and unlaced his breeches. Jon laid back onto the bed and closed his eyes. He was so tired and Sansa had become very good at this. She spent a lot of time on her knees, eager to take him in her mouth, and she was a quick study. 

 

_ “I just want to make you happy. Tell me, what would please you?”  _ Sansa had asked weeks ago, back when her hands were still clumsy. Jon laced his hands through her long hair and she swallowed down his seed.

 

It was hard to imagine that the girl with her lips around his cock was the same Sansa who he’d grown up with. She had been so demure and ladylike, the spitting image of her mother, what any highborn girl ought to aspire to be. Now she struggled to take all of him in her mouth and moaned at the pleasure of it. Knowing that he had defiled Sansa Stark and so warped her mind made fucking her warm mouth all the sweeter.

 

Minutes passed, and Jon wasn’t ready to come yet, no matter how good her tongue running against him felt. He sat back up and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to meet his mouth. 

 

“Did I do something to displease you, Your Grace?” Sansa asked with her lips against his ear, her voice sweet. If Jon didn’t know better he’d think she was as good as she pretended to be, but Jon had felt her bite and she’d certainly felt his. 

 

“No. You’ve made me very happy. You deserve a reward. Anything you want.”

 

Sansa smiled sheepishly. “Anything?”

 

Jon nodded. She ran her hands down his chest gently before pushing him back down onto the bed. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his face. Though Jon relished her cries of pain, he enjoyed her cries of pleasure as she rode his face even more. 

 

He liked it a little too much. He grabbed her waist and lifted her back down. She seemed to understand, resting her hands on his chest she sunk down onto his cock. In their haste he hadn’t removed any of his clothing, but he needed her now.

 

Sansa’s pace on top of him was agonizingly slow. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, her long hair loose and everywhere. She was beautiful. She was more than he ever should have aspired to. She was scarred but her skin was soft and supple, her pain had only made her more precious. He watched her set the pace and find her pleasure once again. Her body had been made to be worshipped and Jon had happily found a new religion. 

 

Sansa’s breathing picked up and she moaned from the back of her throat. When her cunt tightened around him, he couldn’t take it anymore. He flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her. She wrapped her legs around him and he gave in to the dark voices in the back of his head and fucked her hard. 

 

Once Jon had worried about fathering a bastard, but when he was inside Sansa he couldn’t think of anything else. He had to possess her. The overwhelming desire to fill her with his seed was too strong to resist. Something dark and primal at the back of his mind wanted to see her swell with his child. Damn what the rest of the world thought, he wanted to mark her as his. 

 

When he does spend his seed inside her, he doesn’t have the energy to move. Sansa didn’t shy away, she wrapped her legs ever more tightly around him. Jon’s face moved to her neck and he kissed her while she caught her breath. 

 

“I could stay like this forever,” Sansa said a few minutes later.

 

Jon smiled against her neck. He would happily live right here. In her arms the rest of the world was finally quiet. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that underneath that is what all of this was. Jon yearned to hear her repeat the words back to him. 

 

“I think you tore your breeches in your… urgency,” Sansa said when he didn’t reply, “I’ll mend them for you.”

 

“Thank you, Sansa,” Jon said, lingering over her name. He couldn’t tell her he loved her, but when she smiled he knew she felt it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to Ali/sweetshireenbaratheon, an angel who deserves better, and wanted a follow up chapter(s?) to this! <3 I guess this fic is now the events of season 7 with Jon and Sansa having kinky sex on the (not so) sly. Hope you all enjoy!

For the first night in months, Sansa was not waiting for him in his bed. He was set to leave at first light, to go to White Harbour and then on to Dragonstone. They needed dragonglass and, if they could manage it, Daenerys Targaryen’s three dragons. It was their only hope, surely Sansa must see that.

 

A year ago, he’d been a shell of a man. He’d given up on just about everything. Death had released Jon from his vows and he was eager to be free of the burden that he had been carrying on his shoulders these past years. There was nothing left to fight for. But then Sansa had shown up, cold and hungry, and ran into his arms. He’d been fighting for  _ her _ ever since. She had given him a reason to march forward. They belonged to each other now. 

 

Sansa may not be in his bed, but the furs still smelled of her. It would be hard to give her up. He had grown used to having a companion to sit in on his councils and warm his bed at night. He did his best to fall asleep, but all he could think of was her. 

 

After nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, Jon made his way to his door. Outside his room, a guard stood posted. “Summon Lady Sansa,” Jon ordered him.

 

Sansa locked the door behind her when she came in a few minutes later. They had not been in the habit of barring the door. As soon as Sansa began to undress Jon was powerless to do much more than devour her, but it was almost as though Sansa wanted to get caught. He would be lying if he said that the thought hadn’t thrilled him too. Sansa was everything — the last Stark, the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. The darker parts of him wanted to make Sansa his Queen, to mark her as his. He wanted everyone to know how loudly Winterfell’s daughter screamed his name.

 

“You shouldn’t be leaving,” she said, not for the first time. 

 

“The North needs me.”

 

“I need you,” Sansa said, her voice almost childlike. 

 

What Sansa needed to get as far away from him as she could. It was a kindness he was doing, really, leaving her… the walls had ears, and people had noticed that the King’s sister visited his chambers every night. Sansa made no efforts to muffle her moans. She said she didn’t care what people thought about her anymore. They already called her a traitor, a Lannister, a Bolton… she didn’t mind if they thought she was her brother’s whore. But Jon still wanted to protect her reputation. And the only way he could do that was by leaving. He couldn’t stop himself anymore, and if the Northern lords found out what the last Starks did behind closed doors, he wouldn’t be able to rely on their military support. 

 

“You’ll be able to please yourself until I return.”

 

“I don’t think I will,” Sansa said. And then Sansa’s voice shifted and her eyes filled with hope, “isn’t there anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

 

When they were alone together, Sansa was so very gentle. His bannermen had become accustomed to watching Sansa walk all over him. More than one had commented to him about his sister’s fierceness. She was a difficult woman, a woman who needed to be tamed. Jon couldn’t help but agree with them on that, but he didn’t mind how ferocious she was. It gave him an excuse to lift up her skirts and bend her over his knee at the end of the day. She always ended up falling in line. Jon was not as gentle as his sister. If this was the last night he would have her, he would leave her something to remember him by.

 

“Take off your dress.”

 

“I think I’ll need your help with that, Your Grace.”

 

Her dark grey dress was bound tightly to her, nearly as complicated as a southron knight’s armour. But the sort of battles Sansa fought didn’t grant her the help of a squire. Sansa smiled at him demurely. Jon slipped out of bed and walked over to her, Sansa’s eyes making no effort to disguise how long they lingered on his naked body. He should be used to the way she looked at him by now, but the unconcealed lust on her face makes him grow hard. He’d never felt half as much of a man as when Sansa fell to her knees to take him in her mouth, but what he wanted more than release was to see her in all her splendour, sprawled out naked on the furs of his bed, and to feel her fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from having been made to peak so many times.

 

He stood behind Sansa and brushed her hair over one shoulder. His lips ran against her neck and he sucked on her soft skin, marking her as his. His fingers worked to unlace the back of her dress. Sansa sighed and rested her head against her shoulder, exposing more of her neck for him to kiss. She wasn’t used to such tenderness from him. Usually she’d have to mend her dress after Jon undressed her, but he could go slow tonight. Jon did not mind if he stayed up all night fucking her. If he was exhausted in the morning, so be it. It would be a long time before he saw her again. 

 

“It’s not too late for you to call it off,” Sansa reminded him, sighing when he nipped her with his teeth. “Davos can go, he knows Dragonstone well. Or… perhaps Tormund? From what we’ve heard of Daenerys Targaryen, she seems to respond well to barbarians.”

 

Jon’s hands encircled Sansa’s waist and squeezed. He leaned against her, pressing his hard cock into her ass. She moaned, leaning back into him. Jon took Sansa’s earlobe in between his teeth and bit down before whispering, “if you want to be treated gently in here, you don’t tell me what to do.”

 

But Sansa seemed to have no interest in being treated gently. She wiggled her ass into his cock and he groaned, pulling her closer still. “I’ll gladly take whatever punishment you think is necessary, My King. But with you gone, there’ll be nobody to keep me in line.”

 

“You’ll be loyal to me, won’t you? Haven’t I trained a good girl?”

 

“I don’t think you’ve broken me in quite yet.”

 

“Is that what I’m doing?” Jon asked, giving up on removing her dress gently after all and ripping the last few laces out, pulling her dress over her shoulders and exposing her breasts. “Breaking you in for some other man?” He didn’t bother sliding the sleeves off. He reached around and took one of her breasts in each hand. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed down hard. Sansa yelped, and leaned further into him. Jon did not abate. He knew she liked the pain. Sansa liked being pushed further, diving into the unknown with somebody she trusted to bring her back and kiss everything better. 

 

“There’s nobody else,” Sansa said, her voice hoarse. Jon released his grasp on her. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples softly. Sansa shivered at his touch. 

 

“Good girl,” he said. Jon pushed Sansa’s gown down over her hips and let it fall to the floor. Her corset had been ripped too, but to his surprise she’d not worn any other smallclothes. Jon held Sansa’s naked body close to his, sliding a leg between her legs. He held her by the hips, rubbing her wet cunt against his leg far too slowly for her to get any release. “Were you really not going to come to say goodbye to me?”

 

“I planned on giving you the silent treatment,” Sansa said. 

 

Jon didn’t believe her, not when her hair was this soft and she smelled of scented oils and certainly not when she’d neglected to put on smallclothes. In any case, she wouldn’t be silent tonight. “I thought you wanted to convince me to stay.”

 

“You’re too stubborn.”

 

At that, Jon couldn’t help but laugh. It was Sansa who was the unreasonably stubborn one. It was Sansa who was impossibly willful, who could not be broken. “I’ll think of little but you while I’m gone,” Jon confessed, whispering the words against her skin. 

 

“Think of me pleasuring myself in your absence? Becoming so skilled I no longer need you?”

 

“I won’t mind just watching you when I return. If you truly don’t need me anymore.”

 

“No. You’ve never minded that.”

 

There was something magical watching her. The way she closed her eyes, lost in the sensation. Her heaving chest and goosebumped skin alabaster white against the furs of his bed. He was certain the image of it would haunt him, but for now he had her in his arms, and he wanted to be the one who left her breathless. He let one of his hands drift in between her legs. He rubbed his thumb against her clit, continuing to brace her with his other hand. Sansa liked being weak with him, leaning against him and letting him carry her weight for awhile. He wanted to always be the one whose arms she fell into.

 

“Jon?” 

 

“Mhmmm,” he murmured against her skin.

 

“I think about the day I first saw you a lot,” she said. Jon smiled. So did he. “Do you remember when you told me we should run away together? I wonder sometimes, what it would be like if we had. We can’t. This is where we belong. But…”

 

Jon wondered too. Perhaps on some faraway island Sansa would be his wife, and he would sell his sword to some foreign warlord. In a different life, she could be his. 

 

“After the war —” Sansa whimpered against his hand, “promise me —”

 

Jon thrust two fingers inside her, and continued to make circles around her clit with his thumb.

 

“Promise me we’ll run away, won’t you? We’ll get warm together, just the two of us. Where nobody knows our names.”

 

“If we survive, Sansa, than I am yours to command,” Jon said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set in Season 8 and features how Sansa would feel if the events of season 7 happened and Jon and Sansa were secretly having kinky sex, so is fairly unkind towards Daenerys in Sansa’s mind. Obviously she’s jealous, for incest related reasons, and this is not a indictment of Daenerys’ moral character. However, if this is upsetting to you, you probably don’t want to read on.

It only took one look between Jon and Daenerys for Sansa to know. The betrayal stung like salt on an open wound. She hadn’t wanted him to go, she had thought him crucial to her happiness. She had pouted, she had begged on her hands and knees, she had given him her body, she would have given him her soul if he’d asked. He said it was  _ necessary _ , but she highly doubted falling in love with the Targaryen Queen who’d taken everything from them was  _ necessary _ . Daenerys had asked him to bend the knee, not to be entertained in the bedroom.  

 

He wanted  _ her _ . He  _ chose _ her. 

 

Despite the fact that Bran and Arya had returned home, Sansa had so looked forward to his homecoming. They’d be quieter this time, she’d muffle her moans, but she’d sneak into his room when the castle fell asleep just like she had before he left. Under her dress she’d worn the most delicate of smallclothes, edged in myrish lace. She’d bathed that morning, and ran perfumed oils through her hair when it was still wet. She’d taken time to make herself as pretty as she could with all her scars. 

 

Sansa barred her door that night. It was only when she’d taken her hair down and scrubbed her face that she allowed herself to cry. She fell asleep atop a tear soaked pillow. 

 

By morning she’d steeled herself once more. The welcoming feast was over, now she sat across from the pair of them in their council meeting. Jon did most of the talking, with Daenerys looking on with a fawning smile. Occasionally she echoed his statements, cutting off Tyrion when he chose to speak. The previous night Petyr’s words had echoed in her mind over and over again. ‘Together they’d be difficult to defeat.’ She’d thought it was so foolish. Jon loved  _ her _ , didn’t he? They’d promised they would run away after everything was over. But all of that was over now.

 

“And when is the wedding to take place?” Sansa asked, forcing a smile and trying her best to keep the edge out of her voice. 

 

Daenerys blushed, and looked up at Jon expectantly. She was clearly smitten. It killed Sansa that only months before she must have looked so ridiculous. 

 

“What wedding?” Jon asked, his eyes darkening. He looked from Tyrion to Jaime to Theon, all of whom had arrived at Winterfell before him.

 

“Yours,” Sansa said, making her voice as light as Jon was likely to have ever heard it. “Surely you and Daenerys plan to wed.”

 

“We were hoping to keep it secret,” Daenerys said, reaching over and grabbing Sansa’s hand. Her eyes shone bright when she looked at Sansa, her smile so sweet and genuine Sansa felt like she could be sick. “Jon didn’t think the Northerners would approve.”

 

“This is news to me,” Tyrion said, exasperation in his voice. 

 

“You should have told me,” she said, turning to Jon. She caught his eye and let him see her anger for only a second, before turning back to Daenerys who still held her hands. “I need notice if I’m to make the cloaks for a royal wedding.”

 

“We won’t be wed until after the war. If we even survive,” Jon said, his voice cold and unfeeling. 

 

Sansa nodded amiably. “Oh, well in that case I’m sure you’ll want to have your royal wedding in King’s Landing. Less work for me, I suppose. Planning a wedding is hard work.”

 

Sansa hadn’t had to do anything for either of her weddings. She’d been forced to show up and smile, and she had, as much as she could bear. She would never be allowed to marry Jon, for incest was an abomination in the eyes of god and men, She hadn’t even let herself dream of kneeling beneath a heart tree with him, of what they were being anything but sin. But she hadn’t prepared herself for him to leave her and do all of that with another. 

 

“We have no time to discuss weddings,” Jon said, his forehead creased in agitation. “As we speak of royal weddings, the army of the dead marches on Winterfell.”

 

Jon had insisted she be in this meeting even when Tyrion and Daenerys had thought her presence was pointless. It was true enough, she knew little of battles or dragons or white walkers. Sansa hated him for his casual cruelty, for parading the woman he planned to take to wife in front of her. Jon had told her from the beginning that he was a different man, that he was cold and empty. Sansa had loved him anyway, she had felt safe even when he was cruel and harsh. She had loved the darkness in his eyes, she had loved how he tried to fight his baser instincts and gave in every time. He had made her feel like a human being again. But she must have invented the kindness in that, the sweetness in him when he held her or kissed her tenderly. Once again, she had fallen in love with a monster and painted him a hero. 

 

“Lady Sansa, call your bannermen from the camp to your hall so they can bend the knee,” Daenerys said, almost absentmindedly.

 

“No. I shall not,” Sansa said.

 

Daenerys sighed, “must we do this again, truly? Jon?” She turned to Jon and pouted. 

 

“If my Lords bannermen choose to bend the knee to you, that is their choice, Your Grace. I will command them to do nothing besides protect the North,” Sansa said before Jon could answer them. 

 

“And you, Lady Stark, will you bend the knee to me like the head of your house has?” Daenerys asked, all the warmth of her voice from a few moments ago gone. 

 

“I will not.”

 

Daenerys opened her mouth to speak, but Jon put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “She will, Daenerys, don’t worry. They all will, when you’ve saved them.”

 

Sansa smiled thinly, making no moves to spread the kindness to her eyes. She turned herself to ice. Anger burned inside her, but the coldness was always there too. She decided then that she would never bend her knee, that she would never yield to Daenerys and her traitorous brother. She had taken back the North with blood and pain, and she still had the scars to prove it. 

 

“Perhaps I should raise  _ you _ to Lord of Winterfell,” Daenerys said, a harsh edge in her voice. Sansa could imagine her committing the atrocities the smallfolk said she was responsible for. Her beautiful face had twisted into something evil.

 

“I don’t want it… Dany, none of this matters, remember?”

 

Daenerys gave a long sigh. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. Ser Jorah, escort Lady Sansa to her rooms.”

 

“I can find the way myself. This is my home,” Sansa said, throwing Jon a look before she left. Ser Jorah followed her anyway, almost as loyal and doting to their queen as Jon was. Perhaps she just had this effect on people, perhaps soon Sansa would be dying to give everything she cared about up and follow her around. 

 

There was no question of the fact that she was to stay in here until she was summoned. She had been a prisoner long enough to understand when the tables had turned. She sat at her desk and wrote four letters on parchment, folding them and hiding her in the household ledger. She’d have the maester send them to the Lords in their war camps later. Petyr had been executed, but his scheming had paid off. He’d made people loyal to her. Not an hour past before there was a knock on the door. Sansa tucked the ledger beneath the book Sam had given her from the library, beneath a dozen other scrolls. 

 

She was surprised it was Jon at the door. She wordlessly let him in, keeping her eyes and face as blank as she could. She would not let him know what she had been writing to the Northern lords. She not let him know anything at all, not anymore. He could not be trusted.

 

“Sansa…” Jon started, staring at her now almost as softly as he’d done before he left. He reached out to touch her, running a hand tenderly across her cheek. 

 

“Does your Queen want something?” Sansa asked, coldly.

 

“You shouldn’t fight her. It’s not worth it. It’s easier when she thinks she’s won something.”

 

_ Easier _ . What about this had ever been easy? “You gave her a kingdom. You needed to go to bed with her too?” She kept her voice low, because the walls had ears and Jon had brought even more spies home. But she could not hide her anger, and she came out pathetically shrill. Still, she didn’t dare move his hand away, because she was weak and pathetic and his touch felt so good. She’d waited so long for him to return, she’d ached for him, and now he was here. He had been the last person she’d thought would betray her. “Do you love her?” 

 

He looked at her very seriously before shaking his head.

 

“Then… why?” She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t afford to be so weak or pitiful.But she wanted to be. She wanted to be able to relax and give in and have somebody else make decisions for her, if only for an hour. It had been such relief to let Jon take control of her, the pain had been relaxing. He’d always stop when she told him to, and he had been a benevolent master who’d pushed her to heights of pleasure that terrified her. 

 

Jon sighed, “I have to keep you safe. You and Bran and Arya. We need her dragons, we need her men.”

 

“And your promise to me?”

 

“Things are different now. We can’t run away, we can’t leave them….” 

 

Sansa nodded, tears coming now despite her best efforts to stave them off. She understood. She’d tried for so long not to, to think things could still be as they were before he left. She pulled away from him and turned away, steadying her breath. She could not let  _ her _ win. Daenerys Targaryen might be beautiful, but Sansa doubted the queen was capable of giving herself to Jon the way she was. How could such a woman surrender, even for a moment, even abed? He had told her dozens of times they needed to stop, but he’d always been desperate to get her undressed again. “Are they really different?” she asked, “do you still want me?”

 

She could hear his breathing behind her. He tried to steady himself, but he was never as good at that as she was. Her tears stopped as soon as she knew he still wanted her, but she needed to  _ feel _ it. They’d rarely fucked in the light of day. At first she’d been terrified of him seeing how scarred her body was. But he’d come to treat her as if she were divine, and she no longer feared his gaze, she craved it. And after that, their days were busy and their love was hidden, and it was only long after the sun had set when Sansa would sneak into his room and crawl into his bed. After all this waiting, Sansa welcomed the light that streamed in through the windows. They would bathe in it.

 

Sansa began to undo the intricate braids in her hair. “Lock the door,” she said. When she heard his footsteps, she wondered if he was leaving her, but he latched the door. She turned around and looked at him through watery eyes. 

 

“Sansa… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“You didn’t mean to tell me at all, did you?” When there was no answer, she merely sighed. She didn’t understand how the hatred she felt towards him now could coexist with the love that still pulled at her heart every time she saw him. 

 

“You’d be better off not knowing.”

 

“That’s true,” she agreed, “and better off if you hadn’t done it at all.”

 

Sansa walked over to him and unbuttoned his breeches. She’d sewed it on herself not long ago. With her face inches from his, she reached between them and untied the laces of his breeches. When they’d come loose, she took him in hand. He was already hard. Warm feelings stirred deep in her belly as she held him, moving her hand up and down his cock. It had been a long time since she’d held him, and longer still since she’d used only her hands. In the days they’d first been discovering each other’s bodies she’d touched him often, curious and excited by the power she held over him when she her hands were wrapped around him. Soon she’d realized her mouth worked even better, but by then she hadn’t felt very much power when they were abed at all. He’d been rough with her, pulling her closer and closer, his rough hands massaging her scalp gently as he pushed deeper into her throat. She’d come to love being on her knees as much as she loved surrendering to him. 

 

As Sansa’s hand moved along him, Jon closed his eyes. He leaned over to kiss her, but Sansa pulled her mouth away from his. What they had wasn’t love, after all, it was  _ different now _ and his promises to her were void. Sansa was simply Jon’s whore, and he did not deserve to kiss her like he loved her if he only meant to use her body. 

 

“Do you want me on my knees?” Sansa whispered in his ear.

 

Jon’s hands moved to Sansa’s waist, encircling it. He held her firmly, as though she was like to fall right over. Perhaps he just meant to show her his strength, so she could feel protected, or so she would bow to him. Even though she hated him, even though she’d written to her Lords bannermen to make herself the Queen in the North, nothing less than betrayal, Sansa felt the need to suplicate him. She’d happily bow, and praise him as her rightful king if he’d asked her to. She wanted to be ruled, but only by him. 

 

“I want you beneath me,” Jon said, and Sansa groaned. So many nights she had spent alone, missing his weight on top of her. He had turned her into a wretched thing, wanton and starving for attention. She slept naked against the furs now. She would imagine he was watching her as she grazed her hands along herself. It was never quite enough, always just left her craving more, but he was here now. 

 

“Take me then,” Sansa said. 

 

It took no time at all for Jon’s hands to start working her clothes loose. Her belt first, and then the laces on her back. He’d only managed to get a few untied before pulling her dress down over her shoulders and freeing her breasts. He felt her as for the first time, his rough hands conquering every inch of her exposed flesh as if she were newly discovered territory. The laces on her back tore as Jon pushed her dress down her hips. Jon fell to his knees and pulled her silken smallclothes down her legs, leaving them around her ankles. He pressed a kiss to her pelvic bone, and then to each thigh, and then pushed her back onto the bed. Sansa pulled her legs free and Jon pulled them wide apart. He ran his tongue along her cunt and kissed her there again, long and slow. She moaned, and her hands came to his head, her fingers running through his long hair. But Jon would have none of that. He grabbed her wrists and brought pinned them to the bed, falling on top of her as he did. He kissed her then, his tongue sliding against hers with the taste of her on it. 

 

Sansa loved being naked in Jon’s presence. She was his plaything, his beautiful doll he took out to fuck and adore and torture. When she touched herself, Sansa often dreamt of the life they’d have together when all of this was over. When Sansa imagined running away with Jon, they had a little house in a city in Essos. If anyone asked, Jon would tell them that Sansa was his bedslave, a beautiful courtesan trained in the ways of pleasure whose only job was to be admired. It was always warm there and Sansa would spend her days naked and serving him. She wouldn’t own any clothes at all, except beautiful silken and lacy things. Her breasts and cunt would always be exposed, though, and Jon would watch her fondly. His hands would wander, because she belonged to him fully, and she was his to do with as he wanted. When he grew hard, he would push her over the nearest service and fuck her until he spent his seed inside her, or else push her head onto his cock. Sometimes he’d have guests over, but she would remain naked. He’d pull her into his lap and fuck her with his fingers, showing everyone how pretty she was when she came. They’d all want a turn with her, but she belonged to Jon. When she was good, Jon would present her with pearls or other jewels to wear. And when she was bad, Jon would pull her over his knee and remind her who she belonged to.

 

How Sansa wished to be his bedslave, even now! He could marry Daenerys, sit beside her in the throne room, but she would be waiting in his bed. He could spend his days here plotting against her in Winterfell so long as he tied her to their bed and pleasured her at night.

 

Jon’s lips parted from hers and ran down her neck and Sansa was brought back to the here and now. Her cunt ached from lust and she pushed herself up into Jon. His cock was hard and pressed against his belly, his breeches still open. She sighed, feeling more alive than she had in all the months he’d been gone from the simple pleasure of being pinned down by him. He was so strong and hard it was hard to move, but she did her best. She wrapped her legs around one of his and rubbed her cunt into the soft leather of his pants. Jon’s lips moved down her breasts and took one of her nipples between his teeth. His bite was soft, but he sucked on her so hard she was left aching anyway. 

 

His lips moved back up her neck. “Forgive me,” he whispered in her ear. He was desperate, but she did not care.

 

“Fuck me,” she said.

 

And so he did. He pulled her legs apart and wrapped them around his hips. He entered her and she pulled him tighter. He groaned, and released her hands, grabbing her hips instead and rolling onto his back. With her free hands, Sansa ripped his shirt open and placed her hands on his bare chest. The soft hair and hard muscles were familiar to her touch. Sansa tightened around him. It was shameful how easy it was for her to peak with him beneath her. Jon did not seem to care about her agony or her ecstasy, he continued to force her hips up and down. He pulled her down one last time and kept her there for a moment before releasing his hands.

 

“Finish me with your mouth.”

 

Sansa nodded. She moved off of him and took him in her mouth as he’d taught her. They’d spent hours perfecting it as they’d traveled the North looking for houses to pledge their allegiance. Jon had been so kind and gentle with her, guiding her and molding her to his will. And she’d been so eager to please. She liked to watch him as she did it, though he always closed his eyes. She swallowed his seed down when he came. 

 

Just as soon as it had possessed her, the high passed and she remembered that Jon had sworn himself to another woman’s cause. She did not linger in bed, but remembered the letters in her desk and got up from the bed. She walked to her wardrobe and picked out a new gown and petticoats, dressing as Jon lay in bed out of breath. She left before he’d recovered enough to say a single word to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	4. Chapter 4

When Sansa was declared Queen in the North, Lord Manderly kneeled before her with a newly forged crown. It was made to look exactly as the ones the statues the old Kings of Winter wore down in their crypts. Robb’s had been lost in the south, and so Jon had never worn one as King. There was only a flicker of a smile when the crown was placed on her head, she took up the new position as a solemn, serious thing. 

 

Jon was not as opaque as the new Queen in the North, his anger was readily apparent in his barely concealed scowl. It was not jealousy as many might suspect, but rather irritation that his sister had broken her promise not to undermine them. Daenerys had rode off on Drogon only the night before to take King’s Landing with fire and blood, and there was no way she would return if the Northmen had already cast her aside for his impertinent sister. Jon had gotten to his hands and knees to beg her to stay, but she’d refused. 

 

By the time Jon stole into Sansa’s room, she was wearing nothing but her crown. She had been waiting for him, and the thought made him grow stiff and ready to be distracted. When they were together it was hard to focus on what waited for them outside their walls. But Jon wouldn’t let himself play her fool any longer.

 

“You should have given me more time,” Jon said, sighing before he’d even greeted her. 

 

Sansa smiled thinly. “You should kneel before your Queen, as I once kneeled before you.”

 

“You’re going to get us killed.”

 

“It seems to me that we’re all going to die anyway. Your trip south brought us nothing but a leaderless Dothraki horde outside our gates. We might as well die with our pride intact.”

 

“Our pride?” Jon asked, unable to hold back his laughter. He brought his hands to his face and massaged his temples. He wouldn’t even make it to fight off the white walkers, this woman would be the death of him. Sansa crossed her arms, sighing, her arms pushing up her bare breasts. For the first time that night Jon let himself appreciate her naked form. He’d let himself be distracted by the curves of her hips and the weight of her breasts, and now humanity would pay the price for it. “Since when do you have any pride?” Jon asked, “you’re waiting here for me like this, as though it’s a game.”

 

“It  _ is _ a game,” Sansa said, raising her chin in defiance. 

 

“And you play by letting me do whatever I want with you after you undermine me? Why? Surely you know that such a ruse can’t work forever.”

 

“I don’t know about that. You seem awful foolish to me. You’re here, after all.”

 

He wanted to yell at her, but they couldn’t let the entire realm hear them in the middle of a couple’s row. So he evened his voice and talked to her as though she was a misbehaving child. “Do you have so little faith in me? Or is it just that you have no loyalty?”

 

“Do you truly presume to stand here and lecture me about loyalty?” Jon had never seen Sansa look so angry. For a moment he forgot she was his lover standing naked before him and thought himself in the middle of a battlefield. “You left my bed for that monster, and now you begrudge me for taking back what’s ours?” Sansa practically spat the words out at him, though her voice remained hushed.

 

“We need her,” Jon protested. Daenerys was not that bad, not truly. Or, she didn’t have to be… she was annoying, but moveable, if they tried. Maybe. “We need her men, her dragons! Sansa… don’t you want to live?”

 

“It seems to me that having her around does nothing to ensure our safety. She burned your best friend’s family alive! Besides, it’s not that simple, and you know it. The North divided doesn’t stand a chance. They would never follow her, and you gave up being a leader the moment you bent the knee.”

 

“You’re supposed to help me unite the North.”

 

At that Sansa laughed. “Am I?”

 

“We’re supposed to be on the same side.” 

 

Sansa’s nostrils flared. “It’s been weeks since you’ve come to visit me. Perhaps if you had, I would have let you in on my plan. Arya and Bran knew. They loathe her, you know. It’s not just me.”

 

And they would loathe him if they knew what he did with their sister in the shadows. So would everybody else. Jon sleeping with his sister would hardly be any better than that sister running off to crown herself Queen in the North. “You know why I haven’t come.”

 

Sansa looked away. She did not answer him. The anger in her face faded into a look of despair that captured her weakness and Jon’s heart ached. He loved her. He wanted to just hold her for awhile, as though she was a child. She could be as weak as she wanted with him. She was once, in those first days she’d shared his bed. She’d let herself be a damsel in distress and he’d always rescued her after he had his way with her. But she didn’t trust him like that anymore. Jon walked towards her and took her face in his hand. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her body into his. He pressed his lips to her forehead. He met no resistance but he could feel the tension building up in her chest as she tried to stop herself from crying. Tonight Sansa would need to be treated with the lightest of touches. He could be gentle. A tear fell from one of her eyes and Jon brushed it away with his thumb. His lips rubbed against her cheek. He would kiss all of her and make everything better. 

 

“I’m glad she’s gone,” Sansa whispered. Jon suppressed a groan. She’d warned him so thoroughly about not being an idiot, but she couldn’t see how foolish her own actions were. The Starks were prone to making stupid mistakes when it came to love. He hated that part of him didn’t care what she’d done and was just glad she loved him. They could talk about it again in the morning. She softened in his arms and brushed a kiss to his own cheek. Holding her felt so much better than fighting. Sansa rested her face on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. “Would you sleep here tonight?”

 

“If my queen commands it.”

 

“She does.” 

 

“Are you going to sleep in that crown?”

 

Sansa pulled away from his shoulder to give him a look. “This is so lovely, don’t ruin it by being glib.”

 

Jon fought his smile. He would be as solemn as she needed him to be. He gave her one last chaste kiss before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her across the room to the bed that was once his Lord Father’s. With one hand he brushed the furs aside before laying her gently down. She looked up at him serenely. Sansa caught Jon’s hand in hers and pulled him down on top of her. Her body was slack against his, and her mouth was warm and inviting. He could feel her smiling against his lips and he felt as though he was caught up in a daydream. He’d forgotten how sweet she could be.

 

“Come to bed,” Sansa said when she finally pulled away from him, nuzzling her nose into his.

 

“I’m wearing armour,” Jon protested. 

 

“Take it off for me.”

 

Jon pulled the furs on top of her and tucked her in. Tonight he would do as she bid. Perhaps if he followed every command she would stop questioning his loyalty and realize that he loved her — loved her too much, more than was good for either of them. He made no efforts to do it slowly or perform any sort of striptease knowing he would only embarrass them both. Even if Sansa wanted such a thing, and he was almost positive she did not, she would regret it. She seemed very interested in watching him undress, that the room was only lit by two torches was probably for the best. 

 

“The crown is rather uncomfortable to sleep in, after all,” Sansa admitted when he was down to his small clothes. “You can take it,” she said, passing it over to him as though she was doing him a great favour. He was glad there would not be such a reminder of the fact that they would surely die within a week on her head when he made love to her, and he took it without question. 

 

When he did get under the furs with her, he was as naked as she was. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly to him. She pressed her cold feet to his and his heart ached at the casual intimacy of it. “I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out against his better judgement.

 

Sansa ran her lips against his neck. It had been days since he’d shaved and her lips caught on the stubble. He shivered at the sensation. Sansa reached between them and grabbed his cock and squeezed. He groaned. Encouraged, she continued to stroke him.

 

“Let me take care of you first,” Jon said.

 

“This isn’t a chore, you know. I like it,” Sansa said.

 

Jon found that hard that hard to believe, “truly?”

 

“You should see some of the faces you make. I’m never sure if you’re in agony or bliss.”

 

“Always bliss,” Jon answered honestly. It had been blissful even at the very beginning when Sansa was terrible at it. The fact that it was her hands — or better yet, her lips — wrapped around him was so exciting it hardly mattered what she did. 

 

“I like pleasing you,” Sansa said, as though she hadn’t undermined his entire political strategy in front of all of his bannermen — her bannermen now, he supposed. She rubbed her thumb against the head of his cock and he moaned, which seemed to satisfy her. “It’s nice knowing you’re still mine. Even if you’ve left me alone for so long.”

 

“Things are different now.”

 

“Yes. They are. I’m in charge.” Sansa took her hand off of his cock and placed both of them on his shoulders. She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, the furs falling to his feet. She guided him inside of her and sunk down onto his cock, biting her lip as she did. She closed her eyes as she moved above him, taking her pleasure as he watched. It took everything inside him not to roll her onto her back or at least grab her hips and set the pace himself, but he supposed he could let her believe she was in control for a night. He relaxed and watched her. If he could die inside her it would make the rest of it worthwhile. Heaven was Sansa Stark’s cunt. “Come inside me,” she urged, her voice hushed. It did not take much for him to do just that, hoping she had taken her moon tea, but forgetting to remind her as he fell asleep with her nestled against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remade a tumblr for jonsa-ing, follow me at bravegentlestrong.tumblr.com!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes bondage and flogging, so if that triggers you, stay away! <3 hope you enjoy :)

Days had passed since last they laid together, and Sansa could feel her body tensing with need for him. The castle was busy preparing for wars on two fronts, and Sansa spent her days being the diligent Queen in the North her people needed. But her empty bed was lonely at night. More than ever Sansa wanted to abandon herself and leave her cares behind. Nothing was as good as Jon’s hands around her throat to give her release.

 

She waited till the night was dark and the castle still before sneaking into her beloved’s chambers. There were no guards posted outside his door, and it had not been latched. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that he was hoping for her to slip into his chambers like she used to. No doubt Jon wanted to forget about his responsibilities for an hour or two as well. Sansa wondered how many nights Jon had left his door unlocked, waiting for her. Surely he could not pine for this as much as she could, for her desire burned so bright it felt impossible that anybody could ever feel that for her.

 

Sansa tiptoed across the room and let her cloak and then her fall to the ground before slipping under the furs with him. Jon was sleeping on his side and Sansa came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and letting her hands wander freely across his chest and his muscled stomach. Jon was naked too, and he quickly came awake when she took his cock in hand and gave him a squeeze. She pressed her bare breasts into his back as he grumbled incoherently. She felt a moments satisfaction as he grew hard in her hand and began to move her hand back and forth, taking pleasure in servicing her lord and master…

 

“I was hoping you’d come,” Jon said, still half asleep. He enjoyed the feeling of her hands stroking him for a few minutes before grabbing her wrists and flipping her over onto her back. Jon pinned her wrists above her head and looked at her for a moment before pressing his lips to hers and kissing her lazily. He took his time with it. Though Jon did not seem to be in any sort of rush, Sansa was hyper aware of his weight upon her and the feeling of his hard cock pressed up against her. “You kept me waiting,” he said, with his lips only an inch from his.

 

“I’m sorry, My Lord. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? Or do you think you’ll have to punish me?” Sansa was hopeful that she would get to do both. It had been so long since he bent her over his knee. She loved the gentle sting when his hand collided with her ass, and the feeling right after the pain faded, a moment of pure ecstasy before his hand came down on her again. A few days ago, Sansa had seen a horse flogger in the stables, and she’d fixated on the instrument, imagining it in Jon’s hand, wondering how it would feel coming down upon her ass, or maybe against her breasts. She’d asked for one from the stablemaster, and he’d supplied it without asking any questions. It was hidden in her cloak.

 

“Well don’t think I’m going to go easy on you. You’ve been a very wicked girl,” Jon said. Sansa saw the sparkle in his eye as he said it. Jon was clearly imagining what he would have her do. Jon wasn’t one for dirty talk, but Sansa enjoyed the rare occasions when Jon would degrade her or tell her exactly how he planned on defiling her. She couldn’t help but rut her hips and rub her cunt against his leg. He pressed her further into the featherbed in response. “I think I might have to tie you to this bed after all…”

 

Sansa couldn’t help but blush. That had been one fantasy Jon wasn’t shy about telling her, and in the long months of Jon’s absence, Sansa had often slipped her fingers into her cunt and thought about Jon using her like that. She nodded eagerly to give him her consent and he released her, getting out of the bed. Jon walked across the room and grabbed his dagger from his scabbard. He went into his wardrobe and cut part of a spare bedsheet into a few long strips. Sansa felt her stomach tighten. Any embarrassment she’d had, or shame she felt about her desire for Jon to flog her faded away. When she was in his chambers, she stopped being Sansa. She was somebody else entirely, somebody whose only experience was to submit to Jon and to do her best to please him. She slid off the bed and looked around in her cloak until she found the flogger. Then she kneeled on the bed waiting for him.

 

When Jon came back to the bed with the strips of fabric, he noticed the flogger in her hands. “What’s this?” He asked.

 

“I had the stablemaster make it for me. It’s so… so you can punish me,” she said, smiling up at him and fluttering her eyelashes.

 

“Do you not find my hand satisfactory?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he took the leather flogger from her.

 

“Very satisfactory, My Lord… only, I was in the stables, and I happened to catch a stable boy… he’s trying to break a mare. And I was thinking, wouldn’t it be wonderful if my lord could break me?,” Sansa placed her hand on Jon’s chest, and ran her nails down his skin, “I do want to be a good girl, you know.”

 

Jon’s Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed. Sansa’s eyes drifted down to Jon’s cock, which was hard and no doubt eager to get inside her. But Sansa knew Jon liked nothing more than to torment her before he finally put her out of her misery. After considering it, Jon nodded. “We can try it. But you need to tell me if it’s too much. It’ll be harder to tell if I don’t use my hands.”

 

“I promise,” Sansa said, shaking her head eagerly, unable to contain her grin. Unable to control herself, and knowing she wouldn’t be touched for a long while, Sansa’s fingers moved south, rubbing up against her clit. She was already so wet. Jon could easily slip inside her now and take her quickly before flogging her, but she doubted she would be allowed such a kindness. She felt his eyes on her, and she knew she had to stop. She offered him her wrists and he tied them together. She had assumed that he’d meant to tie her down against the bed,  with her legs and arms spread wide. But instead he tied her to the wooden canopy of the bed, so she was forced to stand beside it.

 

“What about a blindfold?” Jon asked. “Or is that too much for the first time?”

 

“A blindfold sounds good.”

 

So Jon tied another piece of cloth around her eyes so she could not see where the first blow would land. After so much eager expectation, now that she was actually bound by her lord and master she felt serene. Soon he would exact the punishment she deserved. 

 

Jon was silent then, and she could not see what he was doing. But then she felt his hard cock push into her cunt. She never would have thought she’d get it this easy, though enjoying the penetration while keeping on her feet was harder than it looked. But just as quickly as he’d pushed into her, he pulled out.

 

After a pause, Jon cupped her breasts in his hands and squeezed down hard on her nipples. Sansa gasped, and Jon had the nerve to laugh. His callousness did nothing to dull her own arousal. She loved this Jon Snow best —when there was nothing but desire on his mind, and he showed her the inner darkness in his soul, the darkness that mirrored her own. This was the Lord Snow she surrendered to. He was worthy of her. He was the only man who was. He pinched down on her nipples harder. All Sansa could do was moan, wishing her hands were free so she could slip them between her legs, or else guide Jon back inside her cunt. 

 

Finally Jon did release her. She sighed in release as the pain turned into a sweet ache. Unable to see, she leaned her head towards him, hoping to catch Jon in a kiss, but he wasn’t there. She heard him laugh at her struggle, and her heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to protest to his cruelty and demand he kiss his queen, but then the leather strips of the flogger came down upon her breasts. “ _ Oh, _ ” Sansa said, her chest heaving. She moaned in pleasure as the flogger hit her again and again. But it was unbearably gentle, and she had yet to feel any pain. “Harder,” Sansa commanded.

 

Jon grabbed her chin pulled it toward him. ‘That’s not for you to decide,” he said, before kissing her roughly. Her knees felt weak, and she wondered if being forced to endure this all for the first time while standing up would kill her. Jon’s hand ran along her back and pulled her closer to him. With his other hand, he reached around her and hit her on the ass with the flogger, again and again, never breaking the kiss. Now she felt the sting of pain, but her body was unable to fully process it as Jon kissed her.

 

He pulled away and used his hands to turn her around. “Open your legs,” he commanded, and Sansa obliged. Jon ran his fingers across her cunt roughly, sliding easily across, clearly finding her wet and wanting. When he was satisfied with that, he held his fingers up to her mouth, and she knew good enough to lick them clean. “Good girl,” he said.

 

Then Jon turned his attention to her ass again. He cupped it, and then ran his hands in circles, as if to soothe her from his abuse. That he was so caring even when they lost themselves like this stirred feelings of love in her that were best kept out of all of this, lest the whole thing become messier than she wanted, and not the sort of relief she craved. “Twenty lashings should suffice for punishment,” Jon said. He pulled his hand away from her. “Count them out.”

 

Jon ran the end of the flogger against her before pulling it away and hitting her hard. Sansa groaned. “One,” she said. The next time was gentler, and the time after that gentler still. She wondered if Jon truly had his heart in it, but she had merely been lulled into a false sense of safety, because the next time was the hardest yet. “Four, five, six,” she counted. She began to pant as she processed the pain. Each time built on the next as Jon hit in her the same place over and over again. By the tenth time, she was whimpering. Jon seemed to realize he’d pushed her close to her limit, and he gave her only one more hit before cupping her ass again and rubbing his hands in soothing circles. He moved closer to her and kissed her neck from behind. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her ass. She hoped he was getting as much enjoyment out of this as she was. 

 

“Turn around again,” he said, “remember to keep your legs open for me.”

 

When she was facing him again, Jon began to flog her breasts again. This time the pain stung. When he’d tired of that, he hit her with the flogger between her legs. Sansa gasped at the sweet pain against her cunt. 

 

“Five more,” he said, “remember to keep counting. 

 

Sansa nodded, and counted out her last five lashes. Each progressively grew harder and harder, until she thought she wouldn’t be able to bear it. When it was all over, Sansa was left panting. But before she could catch her breath, Jon had fallen to his knees and was running his tongue against her clit. She felt his fingers push into her cunt, and curl against the walls, coaxing her to orgasm. It did not take long after the state Jon had put her in, and when she came all of the pain on her body seemed to become pleasure for a few blissful seconds. 

 

“I missed this,” Jon said once she’d come against his tongue.

 

Sansa could not help but laugh. She had missed it too. Was there anything more sweet? How she wished the two of them could pass their days in bed instead of prepare for the long winter and the coming of dragons. 

 

Jon loosed the knot that had bound her tied hands to the post of the bed. He pulled off her blindfold. Sansa looked down at her chest, which was a red that made all of the scars Ramsay and Joffrey  had given her seem to fade away. She smiled at the sight of herself. She couldn’t remember feeling so beautiful. But he did not untie the fabric that held her hands together.

 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said. He pushed her to her knees and sat down on the bed. Sansa did not need to be told what to do. She had been punished, now Jon meant to use her mouth to achieve his own pleasure. She took him eagerly, doing her best without the use of her hands. Jon’s hands ran gently through her hair. At first he massaged her scalp, but before long he was pushing her head further down onto his cock. Before he’d come, he pulled Sansa up by the hair, and grabbed her hips and pulled into his lap and down onto his cock. He controlled the pace with his hands gripping her hips, deciding how deep and fast he wanted her with every stroke. 

 

When she was close to coming again, Sansa leaned down and kissed him. She wanted to embrace him, but her hands were still tied behind her back. 

 

“I love you,” she murmured against his neck, bringing all of that into this after all.

 

The words seemed to make Jon lose control of the situation, and he came immediately, spilling his seed into her cunt.


End file.
